Miranda pretended to care about the handful of letters she'd just paid the post-boy for. Lately, the post had been ruthlessly tossed into a brass spittoon kept by the front door, for Worthington House had larger issues to attend to at the moment. No one in the family give a single damn about invitations.

Miranda glanced up, clearly realized that her avoidance technique wasn't working. As if Attie could ever be distracted from her intentions! Miranda let out a sigh.

"I know it must seem silly. It isn't that I want Poll to be attracted to me. He is my brother now and I'm quite content with that. I hope he can be as well."

Attie didn't comment. Waiting silently whilst staring was far more eerie, she'd discovered.

Miranda kissed Aurora on the top of her silky curls. "I suppose I wanted to look nice because I want Poll to see that I'm well and happy, not exhausted and ill-kempt. Which, when I say it out loud is even more —"

Miranda trailed off as she peered at one of the letters in her hand.

Attie twitched with curiosity. She been bored already anyway, for Miranda was far too sensible to be entertaining when provoked. "What? What is that letter?"

Miranda looked up at Attie with puzzlement etched on her fine features.

"Do we know anyone in Yorkshire?"

CHAPTER 16

Chapter 16

TO THE FAMILY OF Mr. Lysander Worthington,

I write to you regarding the well-being of your relation, Lysander Worthington.

Mr. Worthington is currently lodging near Farby in Yorkshire due to the minor injury of his mount. There was a contretemps in the village square involving Mr. Worthington and a prize ram. Although no one was seriously injured, the situation made it clear to me that Mr. Worthington might best be served by remaining out of the public for some time.

He has convinced me of  your loving regard, so I have made so bold as to write without introduction so that I may reassure you of the safety and wellness of your brother and son.

Should you feel distress that his visit is an imposition, please rest easy on my account. He has proved to be of immeasurable help to me even as I strive to assist him.

Signed,

(with heartfelt apology for the appalling script, inescapable I fear, due to an injury)

Mrs. Oakes

Yew Manor

Swaledale, North Yorkshire

In the largest and most elaborately ornamented bedchamber in Worthington House, a family meeting had been called amidst the festoons of lace, bouquets of dried roses and randomly stacked paintings bearing vivid images of a recognizable William Shakespeare, usually accompanied by a bizarre interchangeable menagerie. Iris and Archie's room, of course.

Dade looked up from the letter he had just read aloud to his family and frowned. "Prize ram? What the hell?"

Poll clapped a hand over his mouth and snorted laughter into it. Dade cast a sour glance his way.